A Life That Might Have Been
by BayBeBlue
Summary: This is part of my Peter and Neal Brother series. This is a series of dreams of what life would have been like if Neal and Peter had grown up together as brothers. Requests accepted.
1. Chapter 1

**I have not wrote in a long time due to a death in the family recently. Well I have just gotten back into the mood to write so decided to do a story that I have had a few requests for from my stories about Neal and Peter being brothers.**

 **Many wanted to read what it would have been like if Neal and Peter had grown up together. So I am going to write a series of dreams about what life would have been like for a young Neal and Peter. Each Chapter will be one dream but this first chapter just sets up how the dreams occur.**

 **If you would like to read about something specific from their youth just let me know and I will work it in.**

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"Mrs. Burke, I'm Agent Nick Daniels."

Elizabeth's fingers tightened around her cell phone, the very phone she had been waiting for Peter to call on moments ago. Her breathing quickened to match the pace of her heart as it beat furiously in her chest. Suddenly she was fully aware of the uncontrollable trembling in her hands, she stiffened and her teeth clenched as she attempted to stop the unwelcomed tremors, but her efforts failed her.

She knew the second she opened the door this was the one thing she had feared the most. There was obvious hesitation in the man as he spoke. She could even see the pity in his eyes. She wanted to just step back and slam the door sealing him and the news he was there to deliver outside. Would that make it any less real?

"There was an incident this afternoon and your husband has been shot. He's been taken to the hospital." The man continued.

She gasped and her hand released its grip on her cell phone and rose to cover her mouth. The phone dropped to the floor as if she had just released her grip on hope. Hope that Peter would call to tell her he was safe, that everything had gone as planned and the fears she had for him that morning, were unwarranted.

After a few seconds of silence she swallowed and realizing that the agent had mentioned hospital she let her hand slowly float away from her mouth. "How bad is he?"

"I'm not sure of all the details but he was being taken to the St. Andrews hospital. Would you like a ride there?" He motioned to the black sedan parked in front of their town house.

She nodded and bent down to retrieve her phone. As she stood back she looked at the agent. "Neal, I need to call and tell Neal."

"Neal already knows, he was with Peter." He sounded so patient and kind as he spoke.

She nodded again she knew that, she must be in shock. She turned and grabbed her purse hanging from the coat rack behind the door and followed the agent to his car.

As she walked into the Emergency Waiting Room she was greeted by Neal. His hair was disheveled and there was a tinge of blue on his left cheek where a bruise was beginning to form. His tie was loose around his neck and the two top buttons of his dress shirt were undone. Her eyes fixated on a large red stain on his collar. _Blood_ she thought. "Where is he?"

Neal saw her staring at his bloodied shirt and knew she what she was thinking. He extended his arms and wrapped them around her. "He's in surgery, he'll be okay, he's a fighter."

She found some comfort in his words but she craved more. "What happened?"

"We were working under cover and the guy we were after was onto us so he set a trap. None of us could have known." Neal pulled away and gently guided Elizabeth to one of the chairs in the waiting room.

She sat down and felt a tear fall from her eye. She hadn't even realized it had been there. "I told him I had a bad feeling about this one."

"He's going to make it, Peter's to stubborn to give up this easy." Neal gave a half smile.

She took a deep breath and felt her lungs expand almost to full capacity. She exhaled slowly and her trembling began to weaken for the first time since she answered the door. "I know." She whispered as the air escaped her lungs.

Elizabeth and Neal both kept a close eye on the digital clock over the nurse's station. Four hours had passed and they still had no word on Peter's condition. Even the multiple times Neal had requested for information from one of the passing nurses only resulted in, "He's still in surgery, as soon as we know something we will let you know."

Time kept passing slowly, ten minutes felt like an hour, an hour felt like an entire day. The no news was good news didn't seem to ring true in this case.

All the commotion in the emergency room didn't seem to faze either of them. A baby screamed with a high fever on one side of the room, while a little boy that looked to be no more than 3 or 4 threw his toys at anyone that dared walk within range, the mother did little more to stop him than repeatedly yell, "Tommy No" or the occasional "1… 2… 3" countdown that resulted in her doing absolutely nothing. Not even a tyrant toddler could pull them from their thoughts.

Every time they heard the swinging doors open and saw a doctor dressed in scrubs emerge they would stand and watch as he scanned the room looking for the family of his patient, it was always someone else. They would then return to their seats with a wave of disappointment that they were becoming accustomed to.

Neal closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall behind him. He sighed and felt his fatigue threaten to take control. Suddenly he felt something hit his leg. He opened his eyes and looked down. A small blue ball was rolling away from his feet. His eyes trailed up and he saw the little boy, Tommy standing only a few feet away. He was laughing and reaching for the ball again. "Tommy, come here. Now!" His mother waived from her seat. Yet she did not attempt to put down her Vogue magazine, nor did she show even the slightest sign she would get up to retrieve the boy. She just continued to order him to come then she started the countdown. "Tommy, 1… 2…!" She seemed to avoid three, probably because that would require her to actually do something. Instead she ordered again "Tommy, don't make me count to three."

Tommy ignored her, he seemed to be immune to this parental countdown, he retrieved the ball and without a moment of hesitation he threw it at Neal again. This time Neal caught the ball he leaned forward and gently tossed it into the air with one hand and catching it with the other. He looked at the little boy and smiled.

Tommy's eyes were wide as he watched Neal toss the ball again as he stood to his feet, this time catching it behind his back.

Neal placed the ball on the back of his hand he began to move his hand beneath the ball rolling it front to back, side to side, all the while keeping it perfectly balanced. The boy's eyes were wide. "Cool." He said as he watched Neal float the small ball along his hand. With a flick of his wrist it was in the air again and landing softly in the palm of his hand. He knelt down to look the boy in the eyes and handed the ball to him. "Practice."

Tommy quickly took the ball and nodded. "I will." He ran back to his mother, who became completely engulfed in her magazine yet again apparently forgetting about the child she brought with her, and he began tossing the ball in the air and trying to catch it before it fell to the ground.

Neal returned to his seat. Elizabeth grinned. "You're really good with kids, is there anything you're not good at?"

Neal smiled and his head slowly bobbed. "Yeah, following orders."

They both laughed and it was the first time since they had been in the emergency room that they felt anything other than worry. It had been enough to distract them and they had not noticed the Doctor who came through the double doors a few seconds before.

"Burke Family?" He was asking as he looked at them unsure he had the right people.

Elizabeth and Neal both stood to their feet in surprise. "Yes." They said in unison.

"I'm Dr. Tolith. You're husband did well during surgery. Thankfully the bullet missed any vital organs, we did have to repair some muscle and ligament damage to his shoulder but he should be fine."

Elizabeth gasped in relief, "Oh thank goodness."

Neal rubbed her back and smiled. "See, I told you he's a fighter."

"He's being moved to a room now, it will probably be a little while before he wakes up but you can go in and see him as soon as we get him settled."

"Thank you doctor." Elizabeth reached out and hugged the doctor, he didn't seem to mind, he was probably used to the sudden outburst of emotion from people, physical contact included.

After a few minutes had gone by a nurse escorted them both to Peter's room.

When they walked in they saw Peter on the bed, he looked like he was sleeping peacefully. A monitor beside him was beeping rhythmically as it tracked his vitals. Elizabeth was happy to hear that sound. She walked over and squeezed Peter's hand tightly. "You really scared us this time hon."

Neal stood at the foot of the bed and watched Peter. His eyes rapidly moving beneath his eyelids. Neal furrowed his brow. "It looks like he's dreaming."

"He probably is." Dr. Tolith said as he entered the room. He walked over and began adjusting a dial on one of the machines. "Often when someone is waking from anesthesia they have very vivid dreams. So vivid some even have trouble deciphering reality from their dreams when they wake up."

Elizabeth still gripping her husband's hand looked from the doctor back to Peter. Now noticing his rapid eye movement. "What's going on in there Peter?" She squeezed his hand.

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 **The next chapter will start Peter's Dreams. I will probably post it tomorrow. Hope you enjoy, and I have not abandoned my other story I just have not had the inspiration to write in in yet.**


	2. Chapter 2

Ok so since these are Peter's dreams I decided to write them all from Peters POV in first person. Also in these dreams Peter is going to have memories from both of his lives. It will show the struggle he has at deciphering what reality is real and what is the dream. They will start with Neal age 4 and Peter age 14 and progress through their ages as they grow. I plan on taking these dreams clear through to when Peter takes the job at the FBI and Neal goes to college. If you want to see anything specific happen just let me know and I'll try to work it in.

Hope you enjoy and I love reading your reviews.

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 **Chapter Two**

A cool breeze rushes across my face and begins to pull me from my sleep. I feel a sharp pain in my left shoulder as I try to move. I still myself and wait for it to pass. As I open my eyes I look around the room, there is a small desk tucked away in the corner with a Babe Ruth poster taped to the wall above it.

A dresser hugs the wall next to an old wooden door on the opposite side of the room. The room feels so foreign yet so familiar at the same time. I blink my eyes trying to make sense of it all.

"Peter, you'll be late for school if you don't get up." A voice calls from down the hall. It was mom. I suddenly begin to recognize where I am, I am in my old room at my parent's house.

I quickly pull myself out of my bed ignoring the throbbing pain in my shoulder and walk to the mirror above the dresser. What stares back at me is haunting, an image of youth. My fingers trace the smooth surface of my face finding no hint of wrinkles or whiskers. I drag my hand through my brown hair and study it closely as it falls back against my forehead. It's me but then it isn't. I know I'm much older than this, I remember being older than this. Was I dreaming?

The door opens and I see my mother peering back at me. She looks so young. "Peter, did you hear me? You don't want to be late on your first day of High School do you?"

I swallow and look from her back to the mirror. I remember this, but it has to be a dream it's too vivid to be a memory. "I'll be right out mom." I answer her with a solemn tone.

She smiles and closes the door as she leaves. I pull some clothes from my dresser and begin dressing for the day. My mind still presses me that this has to be a dream but it feels so real, so familiar that I begin to wonder if it was a dream I had awaken from before. Perhaps this was my reality and what I think are memories of an older me are just dreams of my subconscious.

I feel so confused, I feel like I have another life, a life I only see glimpses of. It's like a puzzle but only half of the pieces are there. Nothing was making any sense. The pain in my shoulder begins to thicken pulling my attention to it. I rub it gently and look for any bruising before I put my shirt on. There is nothing there, just a silent ache of an invisible injury.

I sit down on the edge of my bed and pull my sneakers out from beneath it. It's a strange feeling knowing you don't belong somewhere yet feeling perfectly at home there. My door begins to open again. "I'm coming mom." I stand to my feet and walk to the door, but as the door opens I don't see her, instead my gaze is drawn down to a little boy standing in the doorway. He looks to be about four years old. He has dark brown hair and his piercing blue eyes are so familiar to me. "Can I go whiff you?" He asks.

I just stare into his eyes, it's like they have trapped me. Then suddenly a piece of the puzzle falls into place and I realize I know this blue-eyed boy, but not this version of him. "Neal?" My voice is soft and riddled with confusion.

"Can I?" He ignores me, and presses on with his request as he walks to my bed and climbs onto the edge of it.

I just watch him in astonishment. I don't exactly know what to say to him but I realize he's just waiting for my reply so I slowly shake my head. "No Neal. You can't come."

"Why not?" He's not pouting about it and for a moment he looks like he might even have a case to present on the matter.

"Because you… because you're too little that's why." I manage to find an argument a four year old might understand. It feels strange talking to him this way, talking to him like a child, but appropriate given the circumstances.

He hops down from my bed and walks over to me. Despite our difference in height he proudly looks up at me with those sapphire eyes and he draws me back into them. "So are you."

"I am not. I'm fourteen." I pause and realize that rolled off my tongue so easily, as if I really were fourteen. I look in the mirror again and stare at my reflection. I was fourteen the proof was staring back at me. I turn back to face him and kneel so that I can be eye level with him. "You're not old enough to even be in school yet, but you will be soon."

He crosses his arms over his chest. "But I don't want you to go. I'll be bored all day."

I smile at him and instinctively I put my hand on the back of his neck as if I've done it a thousand times. "I'll be home in a few hours and then we can play catch or something."

It seemed to do the trick and he gives a half-hearted smile. "Promise?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die." I stand up and watch as he runs past me into the living room.

I wonder briefly if mom knows about him, if she knows he's here. But as I think, I realize I already know the answer, then I wonder how he got here, if my parents brought him here? I walk into the kitchen and see mom putting a bowl of cereal in front of Neal who is comfortably seated in a bar stool behind the counter.

She smiles at me and hands me a plate of bacon and eggs. "You need to eat fast, the bus will be here any minute."

I take the plate and sit down beside Neal who is loudly slurping the milk from his spoon. "Mom?" I ask her as she walks back to the fridge to put the milk carton away.

She looks at me and grins. "Yeah?"

I glance at Neal as he chases the brightly colored marshmallows around the bowl with his spoon trying to capture them. "Did you and dad… I mean, how did Neal wind up here, you know with us?"

She turns and looks at me with a funny surprised expression on her face, then she walks over and takes Neal's bowl away from him and gently smiles. "Neal honey why don't you go play in your room."

He frowns at her. "But I didn't finish."

"I know, but as soon as Peter leaves for school how about we go in and get something at McDonalds?"

His eyes sparkle and he jumps off of the bar stool and rushes past her towards his room. "Yeah."

Mom watches him leave the room and as soon as she is sure he is out of earshot she faces me again. Concern in her eyes. "You know we don't talk about that in front of him."

"Why?" I push the matter.

"Because it just upsets him."

I frown at her and push my eggs around with my fork. "He didn't look upset."

"Don't get an attitude with me mister."

"I'm not getting an attitude, I just mean he didn't look like it upset him, are you sure it's not that it upsets you?" I wasn't questioning her, or maybe I was, but I need to know why he is here, and why I am able to remember a childhood parallel to this one in which he was absent from.

"Peter Burke, you know very well we decided to take him in after his father…" She fades off and busies herself wiping down the counter. "Your bus is here." She points out the window at the big yellow school bus parked just outside of our house.

I sigh and gather my backpack beside my chair to leave. "I'm sorry mom. I didn't mean to upset you."

"Go or you'll miss your bus." She doesn't look up, just continues cleaning the counter.

I board the school bus and it feels like such a long time ago that I last did this yet I know it was only a few months ago. I proceed down the bus in search of a convenient seat when a young girl calls my name. "Peter, c'mere."

I look up in search of who is calling to me. Then I spot her at the back of the bus. She's smiling and waiving me back. I grin when we make eye contact. "Kal, hey I didn't expect to see you here."

She laughs. "What you thought I'd just quit after middle school?" She slaps me on the arm as I sit down, and it alerts me once again to the foreign pain in my shoulder. "You dork, we've been in the same grade our entire lives. Personally I'm surprised to see _you_ here, I thought they were going to hold you back one year for sure."

I grin through the throbbing pain doing my best to ignore it. "Yeah, well if I remember correctly _you_ were the one that had to go to summer school."

"Touché." She smiles as she presses her back against the window and faces me.

"You nervous, first day and all?" I ask her.

She shrugs and avoids the audible reply, then redirects. "You?"

I smile as I remember a time when I was nervous, but then I also remember my first day at work. Work, another puzzle piece falls into place and I remember now how I met Neal, at least the adult version. I close my eyes and try to make sense of these bits and pieces that keep returning. I feel like I'm lost in a fog and all I have is a flashlight that only casts a haze across the thick maze of memories in my head. Nothing is clear nothing makes sense.

"So I guess that's a yes." She pulls me back to reality, at least this version of it. I just nod.

"How's Neal handling his new home?" I look at her astonished she knows about Neal.

"Good, I guess." I quickly look away hoping she doesn't notice the shocked look in my eyes. I pull my backpack into my lap and unzip it pretending to look for something. "Um, how long has it been since he's been with us now?"

She chuckles. "I don't know, he's your brother, isn't that something _you_ should know."

I just smile and look farther into my bag in search of nothing.

I can see her out of the corner of my eye and her narrowed eyes tell me she's starting to get suspicious of something. "Yeah, well a lot has happened since he moved in and I guess I sort of lost track." I do my best to excuse the void in my memory.

She raises one eyebrow and I abandon my endless searching and zip my backpack up again as the bus pulls up in front of the school. "Yeah, well it's been like five or six months." She smiles and lifts her backpack as she stands up and slings it over her shoulder.

I mimic her and nod, "Yeah right, five or six months."

"So is he still asking for his mom and dad or has he moved on from that?" We are walking towards the school and she keeps pace with me, obvious she'll do it no matter my speed.

"Yeah, I guess so. He wanted to come to school with me today." I grin as I recall the disappointed look in his eyes from this morning.

"Awe, that's so sweet. When do I actually get to meet him?" She put's her arm through mine as we enter the front doors. I immediately pull away, yet I'm not sure why. She looks at me startled by my abrupt reaction. "Geeze Pete, freak much?"

I sling my bag to my other shoulder and regret it mid swing. My shoulder screams in pain and I drop my bag to the ground and pull my shoulder in closer to my body.

"You okay?" Kal asks and takes a step closer to me. But I move as quickly as she does and step back away from her as if she pushed me away. "I'm fine. I'll see you after class." I pick up my bag and do my best to disappear in the rushing crowed of teenagers as they make their way to their classrooms.

As the day passes I recall the one thing I hated the most about school, it's boring. The first class of the day is English and I fight sleep through the entire class. The next class is math and still I find it uninteresting even now. History class captures my attention a little more and I find it easier to fight off the desire to dose off. The highlight of my day however is Art class. I find it fascinating and miraculously it begins to shed more light on the maze of memories I seem to be struggling with. The teacher tapes four copies of various paintings onto the black board and asks, "Do any of you know who painted these?" I can tell by her tone she expects that none of the students will know, but I do.

Without thinking I point to the first picture, "That's The Night Watch by Rembrandt, the next is The Dance Class by Degas, that one is Springtime by Monet, and the last is Jacqueline painted by Picaso in 1961." I surprised even myself at my fast response. It came so natural just as natural as it did when I told Neal I was fourteen. It feels like I am from two realities and they are struggling to co-exist, each pulling me their direction and I'm just stuck somewhere in the middle trying to make them work together.

The teacher's eyes widened. "Very nice peter, I didn't realize you were such a fan of art."

I just sheepishly grin hoping she'll move past me and onto the next question, of which I will strongly refrain from answering.

But she doesn't and she begins walking towards me. "Are you an artist yourself…" She looks down at a paper in her hand then back to me. "Mr. Burke?"

I slowly shake my head in reply. I barely had advanced past stick figures, Neal was the artist.

"Don't be modest Mr. Burke, anyone who knows that much about art must have a keen interest in it for some reason."

I shrug and try me best to disappear into my chair. She wasn't showing any signs of letting this go. She almost looks upset that I know the answers, did I manage to derail her teaching technique? Or maybe she's upset because I knew more about them than she did.

She turned away from me and started back to the front of the class. I felt my shoulders relax the farther she got. She picks up a thin stick and points it at the first picture. "Mr. Burke is correct, this is a Rembrandt. Perhaps one of these days I will have an original Peter Burke painting to post on this board and ask a future class about the artist."

The classroom filled with snickering from the students and I wish I could just be invisible. Oh to be a fly on the wall.

"Mrs. Parson I'm sorry to interrupt but I need to borrow one of your students for a moment."

The teacher turns to face an older woman standing in the classroom doorway. "Of course, who are you needing?"

"Peter Burke." The older woman answers.

Mrs. Parson turns to look at me, "Mr. Burke, it looks like you're being summoned."

I quickly gather my things and follow the older woman out the door and down the hallway. She doesn't say anything until we are a ways from the art classroom. "I'm Mrs. Riley, It seems you have an unexpected visitor today."

I frown not sure what she means but as we turn the corner I see a man in a suit leaning against a wall. We begin to walk towards him and I study his features looking for something that might be familiar about him, but I find nothing in his face that recalls any memory. He pushes himself off of the wall as we get closer and stands erect. "Look who's here." He says, but his voice is soft and kind, almost as if he were speaking to a small child. Then suddenly I realize why.

A little boy steps out from behind him. His bright blue eyes shining with delight and he rushes toward me, his arms extended out. "Peter!"

I bend down and scoop him up in my arms despite the pain in my shoulder protesting. "Neal, what are you doing here?"

"I wanted to eat whiff you." He wraps his arms around my neck.

I look around the hall and frown. "Where's mom?"

He pulls back and shrugs. "I dunno."

"How did you get here?" I lower him to the floor.

He grins. "I walked."

"You did what? How did you find the school?"

He starts to swing his arms and laugh. "I jus looked for the big yellow whales silly."

"The what?" I look at him confused.

"The yellow whales. You know the ones outside."

"I think he's talking about the school buses." The man in the suit leans forward and try's to translate the toddler language for me.

Neal starts to swing his arms harder. "Yeah."

I roll my eyes and sigh. I grab his arms to still him. "Neal you can't just take off like that. That's dangerous, you could have been…" Suddenly I stop mid sentence, no need dramatize it for a child. "You just can't do that. Do you understand?"

"Oww, you're hurting me." He squirms to escape my grasp.

I begin to realize my grip is stronger than I intended so I loosen it, yet I don't set him free. "Look at me, you can't run off like that, understand?"

He pouts but stops his attempt to get away and his blue eyes become richer and darker as tears begin to pool in them. He nods. "You mad at me?"

I sigh and place my hand on the back of his neck. "No, I'm not mad. I just don't want anything bad to happen to you, so you can't run off by yourself anymore, okay?"

A tear falls from his eye and he places his small hand on the side of my face. "Okay."

"Promise?"

A grin returns and his eyes start to sparkle again. "Cross my heart and hope to die."


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